Justin Marks

MAYBE WE'LL CHILL AT HOME OR GO SEE THAT LEMURS OF MADAGASCAR MOVIE MORGAN FREEMAN NARRATES

written while reading Lauren Ireland's Dear Lil Wayne, Jeff Alessandrelli's The Last Time Will Be the First and emailing with Sampson Starkweather

People want things to endbut not reallyNot, like, forever

Go down on history, I sayI mean, in

Godifferent ways

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My horoscope saysThe options are limitless

The dude sitting across from me looks nervousfor a priest

Disheveled tooAll up in it

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There are these memories I’ve been trying to figure out what to do with for years. Like when I was a boy out looking for things to shoot with my bb gun and saw a baby bird in a nest in the rafter of our barn with its neck stretched out, mouth open, waiting for its mother to return with food. I shot it. Its little cheeps slowed then stopped, as if merely its batteries had run down, and I turned back to the house to pretend it never happened.

Some juvenile ancient marinershit right there

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I get caught upin futile things

Empathy is notan instinct

Anger and destruction are easy

No one paying attentionto me

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The word of the day is yokel

Is slovenly

Is one of those days where I loveevery god damn thing about my life

The nun I just sawDisembarking from her chauffeured Denali(Autocorrect changed my spelling of chauffeur to Chaucer)

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That was a slice of heaven is the last thing I remember my grandmother saying. Alzheimer’s had taken most of her ability to speak. Before long, it took it all, though she would still struggle to say things, to form a word and put it in the air. The thought was there. Clear. You could see that much. Then it was gone. This did not end until her life ended.

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There’s the general meta and thenthe personal meta

This is not the personal

This isa beautiful day at the zoo

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The only way I know to write is to readWhat I like about that is the different words I get to use